Rhiannon

by Roberta Gellis

  “No!”

  “Yes you did. As soon as I saw you—you were singing to Prince Llewelyn—I was called and held.”

  Rhiannon laughed. “You devil! You are trying to make me feel guilty. I did not even notice you.”

  “Nonetheless,” Simon teased, “you have ensorcelled me. See how I returned resistless, even after you yourself sent me away. I am enchanted.”

  “You are enchanted with your desire to have your own way,” Rhiannon replied tartly. “Do you think I am an idiot and do not remember that you just told me you were Pembroke’s messenger?”

  But she was not angry, and Simon laughed with her. “How inconveniently honest you are,” he complained. “Any sensible woman would be delighted with the idea that she could bewitch a man—”

  “And especially you!” Rhiannon exclaimed.

  “Do not offend my modesty,” Simon retorted, grinning, then sobered. “But it is true nonetheless—oh, not that you bewitched me but that I loved you from my first seeing and that each time I see and speak with you that love grows. Rhiannon, you say you do not love me… Do you love any other man?”

  “No! Nor will I ever.”

  “I do not believe you.”

  She shrugged. “Nor do I believe that you will love me long. No, do not protest. How can you say what will be a year hence?”

  “I do not know that I will be alive a year hence—or a month, for that matter, but while I live I will love you.”

  “Simon, I do not dare. You do not really know me or my kind. I am a whole being. If I give you the heart out of my body and you lose it, I will die.”

  He began to say that no one died of a broken heart, but he was looking into her strange, clear eyes. Quite suddenly Simon realized that Rhiannon could, just as certain hawks could die when captured although most of their kind were readily tamed, will herself to death. This put a new light on Rhiannon’s resistance. Simon was in no doubt about his own feelings. This was the first woman he had ever loved, and he was sure he would love her forever. He knew she was in no danger from a change in his heart, but how to convince her—not to love him but to trust him—was different. Time could convince her, but he had no time. She was very lovely, and it was very hard to wait.

  Chapter Seven

  If it had not been for the jagged rocks on that shore, Rhiannon might have achieved her purpose. Since it was barely possible for Simon to find two stones large enough and flat enough to sit on, he did not long consider an immediate coupling. To remount and to look deliberately for a place was a crudity Simon did not contemplate in connection with the woman he loved. One sought the nearest hedge or ditch with a whore or a serf girl off the land. With a lady, time and place must flow together with feeling—and more especially with Rhiannon, who was so sensitive.

  When they were seated, Simon opened his mouth to ask Rhiannon how she thought their problem could be resolved, but she beat him with a question about his errand from Pembroke to her father. Simon obliged with the very shortest precis he could give of the situation and tried to switch the talk back to private matters.

  “No,” Rhiannon said. “I do not wish to talk about us, Simon, I am too overwrought still. I must think while you are not near.”

  “I do not trust such thoughts. You will make me into a monster and break my heart. You are no coward, Rhiannon. Will you not dare a little to have a life of joy?”

  “If you mean I do not fear the death of the body, you are right. But I will not give you my soul to play with, Simon.”

  “Play with? I said you would make me into a monster. Listen—”

  “No. You are trying to trap me in a net of words. I do not wish to talk of this now. Simon, do you not realize that it is important to me whether or not my father goes to war?”

  “But Rhiannon, he will not go himself,” Simon soothed.

  His own father still did go to war, and Ian and Llewelyn were about the same age. But the type of war usually waged by the Welsh was much more of an individual effort, and Simon did not think it practical for an older man to be involved. He did not believe Llewelyn was capable any longer of flitting through the forests or climbing the precipitous mountains. It was different for Ian, who rode to war surrounded by his vassals and, of recent years, with Adam on his right and Geoffrey on his left. Between the iron mountain that was Adam in battle and the swift, ravening flame that was Geoffrey—not to mention his own efforts—Ian could come to little harm even if he should become exhausted.

  “I was not concerned for Llewelyn’s person,” Rhiannon pointed out patiently, not understanding why Simon should raise such an idea. “It is the homestead I must warn.”

  “Angharad’s Hall—I never thought! But, Rhiannon, I do not believe the king intends to attack North Wales. He will have troubles enough with Pembroke. And the hall is—well, it is not easily accessible. Do you really think there is danger?”

  “Of the king’s army coming there? Very little. But if Pembroke should fail and the king should turn on my father, our men will flee into the hills. Llewelyn has come to us in the past—” She stopped abruptly and looked at Simon.

  “Do not insult me by wondering whether I will betray him,” Simon said softly.

  His voice made Rhiannon shudder. She had a glimpse of a cold, hard core inside the man, something that would not bend or break and could be destroyed only by Simon’s death. That was his honor. If only love could be… Rhiannon thrust out that thought and bowed her head.

  “Forgive me. I know your father is clan-brother to mine and that you love him.”

  “I have also given Prince Llewelyn my fealty,” Simon said in the same soft voice, “and I have no divided oath of homage. No wonder you do not trust me. You think me a Judas who would sell my lord for thirty pieces of silver.”

  “No! Simon, I did not think that at all. You must know it was trust that caused me to say such a thing in the first place. I have never told another person—never! I would not even tell Llewelyn’s vassals.”

  Simon sighed and Rhiannon saw the tenseness go out of him. Then he smiled at her. What she had said of Llewelyn’s vassals brought sharp remembrance of how often Llewelyn had been betrayed by those he should have been able to trust.

  “I do not think you need worry about Pembroke failing your father. He is a man of high honor. If he says he will not make peace without Prince Llewelyn’s agreement, he will not.”

  “That is no warranty of safety. In war many things can happen. Pembroke could die—”

  “That would not matter. His brother Gilbert will carry on. Gilbert will abide by any oaths Richard swore.”

  “Where is Gilbert?” Rhiannon asked pointedly.

  “In Ireland,” Simon replied, then frowned, “Yes, I see what you mean. Until the time Gilbert had word and came here, your father would bear the whole weight of the conflict. But I still do not think the king’s forces will drive him so far as Angharad’s Hall.”

  “We must be ready, nonetheless. Food must be stocked. We have enough for ourselves, but not much extra. What is not used may be returned to those who gave if there is no need for it. But if we do not gather what we need before danger comes, there will be no getting it later. It will be burnt or scattered. Also, once the people are fled from the lower lands, they will not return until the danger passes.”

  Simon was silent for a moment. Then he asked slowly, “Will you leave at once to warn Kicva?” He could not help wondering if this was only an excuse to escape him.

  “No,” she replied to his relief. “How can I go before I know what my father decides? Do you know how he leans, Simon?”

  “He leans toward Pembroke, but in the spring the Prince of Powys and several others received substantial gifts from Henry to win their friendship. Prince Llewelyn must be sure they are willing to forget those gifts and will side with him or, at least, not attack his lands if he joins Pembroke.”

  “That will take time.”

  “Yes, but he is willing that his young men go off on their o
wn and make what profit they can on Henry’s baggage trains. That was why I was so loose-lipped last night. I do not doubt that today word is passing from mouth to mouth that, although Prince Llewelyn has prohibited the raiding of English lands and holdings, he will not frown on those who harass invaders of Welsh territory.”

  Rhiannon smiled impishly and Simon’s grin mirrored hers. Both appreciated the subtlety. It would permit Llewelyn to bewail the wildness of younger sons and promise punishment, which would never be meted out, in case it was necessary to pacify the English instead of attacking them. However, in the next moment Simon was shaking his head.

  “It must come to war, Rhiannon. If Prince Llewelyn does not stand with Pembroke now, he will need to stand alone later. The Bishop of Winchester and his accursed spawn are not like other men. They do not value the laws and customs of our people. They talk of one man ruling alone, holding all power and right as a Divine gift, above and apart from all others. They will not be content with subduing the English. Next they will be here, claiming that, because your father has done fealty for one or two holdings to Henry, he is no prince with a right to rule his people as he sees fit. He, too, will be required to submit utterly without recourse to law or custom.”

  “Others have tried to make the Welsh submit,” Rhiannon said. “We often find their bones when we till the soil.”

  “Yes, but… Rhiannon, your father is not a young man. Do you see in either of your half brothers another Owain or Llewelyn?”

  Rhiannon’s eyes fell, and she sighed. “They are more like to fly at each other than to unify or overawe the other princes.”

  “And do you think Prince Llewelyn does not know this? I believe—”

  Simon’s voice cut off abruptly as Ymlladd whinnied, stamped, and pawed the earth. Simon rose to his feet, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword. Rhiannon rose also.

  “Do not dare,” she cried loudly, fearing a flight of arrows from so stealthy a watcher. “Or by Danu and Anu, I will curse you!”

  Before her voice died away, the horse had dropped his head to the grass again. Simon looked at her. “Did you know who that was?”

  She shook her head. “I am not even sure anyone was there. It might have been an animal that startled Ymlladd, but I think we had better go back. I was a fool to leave so openly with you, Simon. I may have stirred up envy among the young men for which you will suffer.” Her eyes were wide with fright.

  Simon knew that Ymlladd would not react that way to an animal, but he was not going to say that to Rhiannon. He put an arm around her and drew her close, smiling down at her. “Do not worry. Have you not already covered me with a broad shield by cursing any who try to harm me?” he teased.

  “I have no power to curse,” Rhiannon confessed anxiously. “I only said the first thing that came into my head that might frighten anyone—if anyone was there.”

  “Likely not,” Simon soothed. “Who knows what Ymlladd thought he saw or heard. These high-bred animals are half-mad.”

  Still, he did not argue when Rhiannon again asked to return to Aber. He caught his horse, swung up on it, and reached down to draw Rhiannon up. She did not raise her hands to be lifted but backed away.

  “Let me walk back alone, Simon,” she suggested.

  “Do not be ridiculous!” Simon exclaimed. “I do not mind if a few idiots are jealous, but I do not want your father furious with me. The whole court will know that I seized you and rode off with you. I do not dare come back without you.”

  “My father will not care. He knows I go my own way. He will think I made you angry—”

  “And so I left you!” Simon did not know whether to fly into a rage or laugh. “Even if I were so angry I murdered you—which will soon come about if you do not mount at once—I would not leave you. I assure you I would bring your corpse home for decent burial.”

  Rhiannon had to laugh. Realizing it was useless to argue because Simon would never agree, no matter what she said, she held up her hands, put her foot on his, and was lifted. When he had her safely settled, Simon turned and kissed her throat.

  “If you would agree to marry me at once, there would be no reason for any man to try to eliminate me,” he murmured slyly against her skin.

  “Why not?” Rhiannon snapped, even while she arched her neck to facilitate his kiss. “There is no betrothal to a corpse, nor wife to a dead man. A widow is as good as a maid.”

  “But at least I would be rewarded for my early demise,” Simon said plaintively, kissing between words. “I would enjoy my last few days of life.”

  “You may enjoy them without betrothal or marriage,” Rhiannon reminded him, “any time you wish.”

  There was a silence. Simon withdrew his lips; Rhiannon sighed regretfully. Ymlladd picked his way carefully up the steep slope of the stream’s course. Simon might have been more troubled by Rhiannon’s seemingly lighthearted refusal if half his mind had not been wondering whether his unarmed back would be pierced by an arrow. However, nothing stirred in the wood and Ymlladd reached level ground. Simon touched him with the spur and they went through the wooded area at a speed that would leave any footman far behind. A master archer might have succeeded in pinning Simon even at speed, but there was no one in the wood when Simon passed.

  Earlier, Madog had seen the direction Simon took and had followed. It had taken him some time to find the correct cove, and he had actually seen nothing more revealing than Simon and Rhiannon sitting decorously side by side and talking. He could not hear what they were saying, but their placid manner did not soothe him in the least. Disregarding the practical fact that it would have been extremely painful to try to couple on that rocky beach, Madog decided that they were finished and were planning their next assignation.

  He had not stopped to think that he might as well have accused them without trying to follow, but now he decided that if he could hear what they planned, he could bring Gruffydd with him next time. But he was too intent on his purpose, and did not stop to realize that the wind was blowing from the shore toward the sea so that the horse sensed him. As soon as Simon rose ready to draw his sword, Madog had begun to back away. He was not looking for a fight; he had taken Antwn’s warnings to heart and realized they would plan no further now that they had been disturbed.

  Rhiannon’s threat thus offended and terrified Madog all the more because it seemed prescient. She had not said Do not shoot or Go away. She seemed to have read his heart, for it was a daring notion to involve Gruffydd in removing the cursed Saeson. But Rhiannon had cursed him! Only witches could curse. Then Rhiannon was a witch. Of course she was! She had always been very strange, not like any other woman. That monstrous cat that spat and hissed at him every time he sought to have a few private words with her must be her familiar.

  Sweating with fear, Madog had withdrawn and hurried directly back to Aber. The distance was not great. Running as fast as he could, Madog reached the gate while Ymlladd was still setting one foot cautiously after another on the steep rise from the cove. Inside the gate he felt terribly weak and sick, which added greatly to his terror. He sank into the shade at the side of a building to rest. After a while, when he had caught his breath, he felt better and began to wonder what he should do instead of expecting to be struck dead any instant. He did not know whether forswearing his plans would automatically lift the curse; he did not know how swiftly or by what mechanism the curse would work. In fact, when he tried to think it out, he had no idea exactly what limits the Do not dare had.

  He was just about to find a crony with whom to discuss the matter, when his throat tightened with a new terror. Surely the Do not dare forbade him to accuse the witch. Besides, to whom could he carry this tale? Even Gruffydd was not likely to listen with sympathy. She was his half sister, after all. And Prince Llewelyn fairly doted on her. And, now Madog remembered, it was said her mother was also a witch and had ensorcelled Llewelyn so that he coupled with her and bred a witch-daughter.

  Hearing hooves, Madog scurried away toward the
first area that offered better concealment from the main gate. This was where the bulk of the women’s hall protruded toward the main hall. His head was turned apprehensively over his shoulder so that he did not see what was ahead of him, and before he could round the building his arm was caught.

  “Is your interest in Rhiannon uerch Llewelyn so great that you must tread down every other woman?” a spiteful voice demanded.

  Madog started to wrench himself free but then stopped. Even Rhiannon would not dare hurl curses when there were others than her ensorcelled lover to hear. “I have no interest in her. I hate her,” he stated, with such passionate sincerity and malevolent expression that Mallt was convinced.

  “Then why—” she began, but Math streaked out of the women’s hall and dashed by them heading for Rhiannon as she came down from Simon’s horse. Mallt and Madog shuddered simultaneously, and Mallt hissed venomously, “Cursed witch.”

  “You know!” Madog exclaimed.

  Mallt stared at him and then nodded slowly. “Catrin and I heard her talking to her familiar when she did not know we were nigh. He had not done something she desired, I suppose, because she called him ‘traitor’ and asked if that was the way he ‘rewarded devoted service’. When she saw us, she was angry.”

  “Did she curse you?” Madog asked anxiously.

  “She would not do that in the hall,” Mallt replied. “Prince Llewelyn may cherish her, but even he could not protect her if too many knew of her evil.”

  Her eyes, however, were not on Madog. They followed Simon, who, after watching Rhiannon walk away, was leading Ymlladd toward the stable. Had Madog not been so preoccupied with his own fears, he might have realized that Mallt’s conviction that Rhiannon was a witch was based upon jealousy. However, he was too relieved to have a safe confidante to examine her motives.

  “Can she curse when her familiar is not by?” Madog asked.